by Greg Remy
Darious focused back on the console. He attempted a deeper diagnostic scan. It took the computer several minutes to compile a limited list of errors. Darious could feel the distinct rippling of anger and alarm; his mind constantly oscillated between each emotion. The ship was currently unflyable. The engines were heavily damaged, life support was running on its last backup energy cell, and many internal circuits were severed, preventing further analysis of the ship. Utilizing what was still available of outbound scanning utilities, Darious managed a broad search of the space around him. Emptiness. No CF vessels of any sort were in the vicinity. He then attempted to reboot navigational and communication systems. It took him a couple tries, as it was hard to concentrate through the pain, and several times he missed keystrokes. When the systems finally began loading, Darious took a moment to examine his own body. He had several long gashes and many non-consequential cuts; all seemed to be clotting normally. Along his midsection, there were several deep-skinned bruises that stung at the slightest touch. He surmised there was a possibility of internal bleeding. Darious purposely saved his leg for last. With careful fingertip caresses, he felt around his right leg, zeroing in on the epicenter of where the pain was coming from. His tibia didn’t feel broken, but the area was swelling badly.
A blue screen popped up, detailing that most of the navigational systems had been unable to properly reboot, however basic communications were still available. Darious quickly brought up the lightcard-sync algorithm that Zoe and he had used during the Pantheon Industries heist on Kratos. He breathed a sigh of relief. The ship immediately located Zoe’s lightcard, though it was rapidly moving away from him at floating-parsec speeds.
Darious knew he had work to do, and to do quickly. He stood up, mindful of his bum leg, and surveyed the battered ship, starting first with the cockpit, which was in shambles, and then moved on to the main chamber. There were burns etched along the walls and metal debris throughout the small room. Darious again became aware of that half-forgotten buzzing sound, but he couldn’t localize it. Then he saw the hatchway. It was not metallic grey as before, but a shiny russet. With his full perception on the new door, he realized the thrumming sound was coming from it. Darious quickly concluded that there must be a pin-sized puncture somewhere there, seeping precious air to outer-space. He stepped up to the odd door. It had no handles or bolts! He held out a hand and lightly pressed on its surface. To his surprise it flexed outward, causing him to quickly retract his hand. Darious stared at the elastic material and then he understood what was before him. He grinned from ear to ear.
“Zoe, you have saved my life once again.”
Darious laughed. The ship apparently had a rubber-like space polymer around the entryway—an airbag in the event of ship depressurization. Thank you!
Upon further inspection, Darious could see that the actual metal door was still intact, though jammed in a retracted position. The pain around his body and fogginess in his mind began dissipating as the winds of resolve strengthened. He went over to one of the long drawers and pulled out several tools. Next to the entryway, he opened up a panel and began repairing the filaments to the door. Darious was clicking objectives into place as his work proceeded rapidly. First things first, he thought, repair leaks, then life systems, then navigation, then thrusters. Then Zoe.
“What is the secret?” asked Zoe, straining to sit up. “What is it that’s worth so many lives?”
The Grandeur looked pitifully down at her. “Oh, come now.” Then a glean of pleasure crossed his face. “It all began millennia ago, with the first generation of Pantheon, though in those days it went by a different name. Arrival of the final frontier; oh, they knew...” Blood was slowly dripping from Zoe’s lip. She did not wipe it away. “They knew it was time...” He paused and glared disgustingly down at her huddled body. “Time for a higher form of control. Whether they had the foresight to see what came next, I do not know. Whether it was gallantry or luck, they found it. How extra-ordinary it must have seemed—how unnatural. They took it to the fire, forged a new galactic society from it, and then they wielded it. Now I continue to wield it.”
Zoe slowly raised a hand to her chest, grimacing as if her lungs were in pain, which they were. In actuality, she had begun typing instructions into her lightcard, navigating through its programming from memory. The Grandeur seemed not to notice, nor care. He began again slowly orbiting Zoe.
“The galaxy, every single grain of salt, every particle in it, belongs to me. After years of toiling with that Earl, the galaxy’s greatest resource will now finally be mine. Kapteyn belongs to me. No more impediments. Nothing will stand in my way. I will end this clandestine war. This galaxy—my galaxy—is under my rule and soon to be under my complete subjugation. They will remember me until the end of time!” He stopped in front of Zoe, facing away from her as if she were no longer worth his noble sight. “You may rely on this single fact: I am in control.”
To this, Zoe began balling a fist.
“Hey mister,” she retorted in a strained voice.
The Grandeur turned around, continuing to hold his head up high. Still half crouched from the pain all over her body, Zoe slowly brought up a hand and wiped the blood from her face. She lifted her head and locked eyes with him, matching his embellished complacency.
“Watch this.”
She pointed a finger to her chest. “Aaand…”
The Grandeur glowered down at her, his fiery scorn seeking to consume the plebian below. Zoe stared up at him. To the contrary, his fire was not consuming her; it could not. The flames wriggled around her; they bent at unnatural angles and began warping into something new. His oppression became a fan to her smoldering will.
“…enter,” said Zoe coldly. She tapped the final command hidden under her shirt, engaging the program. In the following moment, the room remained silent.
Then suddenly, all the lights flickered, breaking the Grandeur’s cruel, sumptuous stance. Zoe continued to stare at him, managing a devious smile through swollen, bloody lips. This made the Grandeur evidently somewhat uneasy. He was in the process of raising his hacker card when the surrounding lights shuddered again and then completely went out, instantly being replaced by red emergency lights and alarms. As confusion overtook the Grandeur, Zoe sprang into action.
She leapt forward, landing next to the Grandeur and bent low, performing a low sweeping kick and knocked his feet out from under him. As he fell, Zoe spun and used her momentum to swing herself back to a standing position. He hit the ground with a loud thud and a painful groan. Zoe ran to the door, pausing for just a moment to look back at the Grandeur, who was now an opulent mess on the floor. His robes covered his body while he slowly wiggled underneath, stunned and under pain of his hedonism.
Scanning the edges of the prison door, Zoe pulled out her lightcard. The electronic locks didn’t stand a chance. With a single click, Zoe opened the door just a hair and looked out. She didn’t spot any awaiting personnel. Wasting no time, she rushed into the room and then bounded down the corridor, with rotating reds and wailing sirens above her.
Darious was plugging away, decrying having only been fashioned with only two eyes and two arms. He never dared blink whilst swift finger movements picked up wires, tested connections, soldered ends, and continued on. He felt black spears of whiplash as his vision out-sped his hands to guide his work. He had to concentrate intensely to keep his eyes from rolling down his face and onto the floor, or they too would be picked up and soldered back in place. His mind constantly splintered off with thoughts of Zoe.
“Zoe,” he whispered to himself.
For a moment, Darious could feel the cold and unfathomable loneliness of outer-space converging on his dark corner of infinity. Then, stirring sounds, like the waking grumblings of some hibernating creature hungry for its first meal of the year, began from under Darious’ feet. The ship was coming back to life.
Darious’ heartbeat quickened. Yes! He quickly placed a key connector into its electrical
slot and looked on with anticipation. Nothing happened.
“Damn it!”
Darious pulled back an arm and punched the exposed circuitry. A loud hum started from the engines and the entire console lit up with blinking lights and readying interfaces. Excited hooves and snarls arose in the craft. Darious leapt to the control console and began feverishly typing away. The bright screen made his eyes water, as if he had been an eternal wanderer in an underground maze and had finally sighted his salvation.
“Aaand…” Darious waited, poised and ready. The beast within the ship was churning and amplifying. Darious urged the screen on. “Come on, come on.” Internal systems were compiling errors and autonomously reworking connections a million times a second. He stared at the loading bar as it worked its way from one edge of the screen to the other. It stopped and started, stopped and started again, continuously in limbo. The clone looked out to the stars. It took several minutes for the bar to fill. Then a prompt appeared onscreen. All fixes had been completed. “…enter.” Darious pressed the command and the ship roared with vitality. He managed a little smile through the sweat and stress. Lights on the exterior of the ship flicked on, the engines test fired, and the entire ship broke free from its stone tomb. The beast bellowed, rattling its wingtips, and with a burst of its thrusters bright enough to challenge the pulsars of Andromeda, rocketed on toward Zoe.
As pumping heart from artery to artery, the lift raised Zoe from the depths of the underworld and up toward the deliverance earned by her temperance. Under the dim lights, Zoe looked at the drying blood upon her clothes. She filled her lungs with air and with a quick exhalation, shot out a wad of mucus and blood from her nose. She wiped her face with her arm and looked over at the elevator’s display panel, which spasmodically blinked with the red background ‘Emergency’ and a small smile formed at the corner of her lips. The passing floors ticked by. Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Twenty-three.
The lift stopped with a slight rattle and the doors retracted. Zoe glanced out from behind the side divider and breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing that the corridor was empty. The large hallway was without normal illumination, having only red flashing lights to guide the way. Zoe began running down the hall, stopping only momentarily at a computer terminal to make sure she was still heading toward the outer sections of the mammoth vessel. Thankfully, she continued to be on course to the closest bay area. Zoe sure hoped there was a ship there, any ship.
Just as Zoe neared the end of the hallway, she heard voices from around the corner and dove into an adjacent room. She quickly looked around. It was a small commissary, lacking sufficient light and consequently full of shadows. She ducked behind a table and listened. The hustling voices hit their max and soon faded out. Suddenly, her lightcard began beeping. Zoe fully scrunched under the table and pulled it out. An incoming call! She stared at it wide eyed for a moment and then held the lightcard close to her face.
“Hello?”
“Zoe!” cried Darious from the other end. “Zoe!”
“Darious!” she nearly shouted but quieted herself. “Oh Darious, you have no idea how great it is to hear your voice.”
“Yours as well. Zoe, I can see you are still in the CF vessel. What is going on?”
“I am. They had put me in a cell, but they should have known no cell could hold the great and powerful Zoe. Where are you? Are you okay?”
“I am fine, heading in your direction with your ship.”
“My ship,” choked Zoe, suddenly recalling her dire dread when Darious was tossed into certain oblivion. “After they threw you back in there I… I saw an explosion... I thought... Oh, I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“I am tracking you with your lightcard. I am set to rendezvous shortly. Why are all the smaller ships leaving from the vessel you are on?”
“The ships are leaving? I... I... just overloaded the lighting system. Why are the ships leaving?”
“I do not know,” responded Darious. “I have scanned your location within the ship. The closest landing point near you is Dock 103. I will be there in approximately seven minutes. Can you meet me there?”
“Yes sir,” said Zoe. “Over and out. See you soon.”
“See you soon,” he replied. The call ended.
Zoe stood up and spotted a control panel. She flipped it on and looked up Dock 103. It wasn’t far at all. She might just survive this.
A monitor above the entryway flickered and turned on. Zoe looked up at it. The picture smoothed out, revealing the Grandeur centered onscreen, sitting on the bridge of some luxurious private spacecraft. He wore a wicked grin.
“See where your brashness has led you? Stupid girl. Your prison will now be your grave.” He typed on the keypad at the arm of his chair. “It’s too bad. I quite liked that ship. I had it created just so I could saunter across the galaxy to indulge in my little pleasures.” The Grandeur leaned forward, and his expression turned to harsh judgement. “I’ve sent an order for the ship to self-destruct. Good riddance.” He looked beyond the screen. “Let’s be off! I have a meeting in the Orion System at three.” The monitor feed cut out.
Zoe stood in amazement. No way. No way he would do it. Then, from some far-off place, deep within the massive vessel, she heard the sounds of pressure building, of bending rivets and expanding metal, and then a low mechanical groaning began. A siren wailed, and an automated voice came over the ship’s speakers, echoing throughout the vessel.
“Warning. Self-destruct sequence One Zero Niner activated. Warning. Self-destruct sequence activated.”
Zoe vaulted over the table and began running, using both arms and legs to propel herself as fast as humanly possible towards Dock 103. With each step she swung her arms forward, cupping the air and flinging it behind her to gain to gain extra speed.
A distant blast echoed from behind Zoe and vibrated through her chest. Upon reaching the end of the hallway, she gripped its cornered edge, pivoting to the next hall while maintaining her forward momentum. She ran at top speed, flying from corridor to corridor. Through heavy breathing she could smell burning oil and metals. It smelled of death.
“Warning. Catastrophic failure. Warni—”
A nearby thunderous explosion disabled the intercom voice and impelled Zoe to run even faster. She sprinted through flanged hatchways as she reached the outer engineering sections of the ship, timing leaps over the lip of each one. She swung around a secondary corridor and almost lost her balance, though quickly compensating and continuing her headlong run.
Upon the next intersection, Zoe quickly chose left but slowed and stopped after several meters. She began to run again but paused, looking back and then forward again. Don’t second guess yourself. There’s no time. She stretched her brain trying to remember the correct route through the inconceivably large ship.
“Arrgh,” she said aloud in desperation.
Another explosion resounded from far off followed by crumpling metal. Sweat poured down Zoe’s brow. She made up her mind to keep heading in the direction she was facing despite her burning uncertainty. Her first step sent her much further than anticipated.
“Crap!”
The ship’s internal gravity stabilizers were giving out. Each stride sent Zoe several meters forward. She began again, keeping her stance low as not come into contact with the ceiling as she picked up speed. The corridor was never-ending. It was as if the ship was mocking her racked mind by funneling onwards in an exponential cone. Zoe threw out her thoughts of impending doom and refocused her determination. She would make it. In her mind’s eye, she faintly remembered the left end of the hallway opening up to a larger hallway, which would then dead-end at Dock 103—where Darious would be waiting for her.
Another shock reverberated through the ship. Zoe looked back and saw red flaring up from the end of the hallway she had just traversed. She again centered her attention on her target and ran as the artificial gravity continued to loosen its synthetic grip on her. Her sprint became elongated leaps from just he
r tiptoes, carrying her forward with barely any contact to the ground.
Ongoing detonations behind Zoe seemed to be ripping the vessel apart from the seams. With one loud boom, the gravitational systems abruptly went completely offline, sending Zoe into the ceiling from her last vault. She hit her head on the riveted metal and spun in weightlessness. Despite the instant and agonizing pain, Zoe quickly regained her bearings. She again bounded forward, though the hallway appeared to have attained a slight spin to it. With fleet steps, she leapt onwards while grabbing at anything she could use to keep on going, to keep on moving. Zoe strained to keep her eyes on the hallway’s end as the fog of spiraling dizziness rolled in.
